


Devil's Duel

by Insanity_Smiles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Keith (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), BAMF everyone honestly., Blood and Gore, Dark Romance, F/F, F/M, Gangs, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insanity_Smiles/pseuds/Insanity_Smiles
Summary: In this world, people hurt. They hurt and hurt and hurt, and some find delicious pleasure in it.Keith hated that he was one of them.He tried to ignore it, he really did. But it was so hard to just… let it be. The fire burned in him, ached and pulsed. He couldn’t outrun it, couldn’t hide. Some part of him, that wicked, demented side, wasn’t helping so much either.And he feared it was only going to get worse.***A world filled with vivid, bright reds and blues- many fight to understand what to do. Fight, as it is, enjoys the pleasure of sins. Sins of those who spit lies and scream tales. A wonderful world for a little girl and a little boy, isn't it?But murder plagues the streets, a serial killer that haunts the dreams. A nameless face that has two detective tied with nightmares, a face that they both know.Nothing is as simple as it seems, a lesson hard earned. Many different factors that not even the smartest can attain- a sad truth to the sad sobbing of innocence stolen.This world is filled with vivid colours, bright ones.So why was his dulled?
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura & Lance (Voltron), Is a story in itself, Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)/Original Female Character(s), Lance/Lotor (Voltron), broganes - Relationship, but don't worry bb Klance is endgame, only mentioned - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

His hands gripped the bike’s bars, tough, worn grooves under his scarred palms. 

Furrowed brows, tightening heart, he blinked away the tears that formed around his eyes. He refused to think about them, even if the smoky wind blew them ice cold against his cheek and into his ear. Silent whirring wound in his mind, and he hummed along with it. 

He forgot his helmet, nothing to protect him in case he flung himself off of the cliff. Fingers tightened their grip as the thought poisoned the quickening air around him and he swallowed small pebbles stained with grief. 

The guardrail that kissed his legs to his right made the itch in his hands urge him to skid. Clenched jaw sent horrific pain, but he didn’t want to scream out the rage he felt burning in his jittery limbs. Just one small movement could end it all. 

Metallic taste flooded his dry mouth and he let it drown down into his stomach. 

The only thought he had was that he had to get away- far away. Leave behind memories stained with tar and poison, let them rot in that fucking graveyard of things he’s run away from. Let them eat away at him, he didn’t care. Stay up every night with disgusting tears never leaving him alone- he could bear with it. 

He just couldn’t stay there another night. He had to find him. 

Didn’t feel the bitter chill of the evening air against his bare hands, knuckles the only thing covered. He craved that feeling, latched onto it and avoided the touch of want that screamed at him to just end it all- feel nothing anymore. 

It was sickening. 

* * *

The gas station's dim light blurred his vision as he popped the stand. 

His boots made the only noise in the empty lot, road empty and night shading his eyes in a blur. Cold breath escaped his lips as he slid his dead gaze across the store. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, he fisted the loose change he had always left in them. Warm metal coated his palms and he let out a slow sigh. 

He shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable. 

The bell rang over his head, a sweet little tune. A simple one. He darted his attention to the bored looking woman at the counter, her own face slack and hollowed. She wasn’t looking at him, lashes pulled down over the phone in her hands. 

The store really wasn’t that big. He could see everything with a single sweep and hunched his shoulders even further. His legs felt so heavy, like something pulling on his legs with demented claws and tainted grins. 

He shivered as he walked himself to the pitiful wrack of bags and purses. He roamed over them, glancing at the prices and quickly darting them away. Why was everything so fucking expensive? 

Swallowing thickly, he fisted the coins in his pockets and glared at the cheapest bag there was. 

Hands that gripped the coins released, and he gently undid the clasps it was bound by on the hanger, cause if he was going to rely on something, he was going to damn well treat it like a queen. It was all he was going to have for god knows how long. 

So, he held it in his left hand and marched his ass to get the rest of what he needed with his jaw still screwed shut. 

* * *

“Is that all you’re going to get?”

He nodded. 

“You sure? It’s kinda cold out there.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him as he shuffled his feet. Her eyes were darting, though caring. 

He didn’t like it. 

After a few more seconds of stiff silence, she let out a dry sigh. He refused to look at her any further, instead busying himself with staring out the window, his body tense and ready to run if he needed to. A frown danced on his lips as he caught sight of his bike- sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of fucking no where. 

“Can you hurry up please.”

Her gentle hands wisped over the cans, lighters, socks, thread, and shoelaces. “It’s going to get cold out there soon.”

As her scanner slid over the last can of soup, he jerked out a hand and placed them all in his bag- swinging it over his shoulder. His throat hurt from all the hoarse wails, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to girls to sweet for her own good. 

So he dipped his head in thanks and started to walk towards the door, his heart heavy at going back into the dark, cold night. 

“I have a friend who works the motel a few streets away,” her voice called as his hand braced against the handle. “There’s a storm coming… and it’s no storm for a boy like you.”

He didn’t respond as he stepped back into the unknown. 

* * *

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ !”

He buried his face in his shaking hands, trembling with fear and frustration. Ass sore against the hard rock he sat on, he hissed into his disgusting hands and swore over and over again. All he wanted was to ride as far as he could, and he couldn’t even do  _ that _ . 

His bike laid beside him in a horrible wreck, pieces of chipped red paint whispered to him on chunks of totaled metal. He couldn’t even look at it, his eyes to blurry to even see straight. 

He didn’t want to anyway. 

It was as if he really wasn’t meant to be anyone else. Lips formed into a cracked frown, he bit them as he swallowed down another scream of hatred. 

Brittle fingers clawed into his scalp as he hunched in even further. The cold was starting to settle in. Didn’t really hit him before- but now, as he sat there all alone in a ditch off the highway, he was all too aware. 

Sliding his hands down his face, so his dirty fingers picked under his darkened eyes, he blinked away the tears coating them. Then he blinked again. 

Down the road, just as that woman said, was the barely visible and flickering sign of  _ Motel _ . 

His jaw clenched and his nails dug into his skin.

He fucking hated relying on people. 

* * *

“One night?”

He nodded. 

“You, uh- you sure? Storm’s starting to get real nasty out there, man.”

He didn’t say anything back, simply waiting for the guy in front of him to hand him the key so he could get the fuck out of the lobby. There were so many people here, some sort of half cafe thing, and they were staring at him. 

He could feel their sickened eyes. 

The guy only shook his head as he beant to get something from under the desk. All he could see was his shaved head bobbing up and down, cursing to himself quietly. 

“What are you doing?”

It was starting to be too loud and he fought the overwhelming urge to slap his hands over his ears and huddle into a ball. He could do that in his room when the fucker hurried his ass up. 

“Ah-hah!” He finally got whatever the hell he was looking for, jerked his head up, flinched when he saw his glare, and swallowed. “Sorry. I just- I’m supposed to ask everyone if they’ve seen this guy.”

He slid the paper over to him, and he glanced his narrowed eyes downwards. Familiar face greeted him, maybe a little older, and he swallowed down all the questions on the tip of his dry, dead tongue. 

“You, uh, know him?”

“Why.”

“Oh- um, well.” The guy rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. If you don’t know him it’s chill.”

He didn’t meet his eyes after that, even when he placed the flimsy grey key in his open palm. 

* * *

He felt frozen. 

Sitting on the overly soft mattress, he thumbed the knife in his hands. Rough fingertips danced lightly over the delicate edges, the care that was woven into the handle had him breathless all the same. A comfort, but a nightmare. 

The soft feeling that ate at his lungs washed away with ice and he flinched. 

He quickly wrapped it back up in the cloth he ripped away from his shirt at some point, and placed it back into the first pocket in the bag. Then he slid his gaze to the items laying beside him. 

Didn’t really have a whole bunch to get him all the way through, so he would have to come up with  _ some  _ way to make money. He thinned his lips once more as his brows furrowed. 

There was no use in losing his shit over something like that. 

He’s survived worse. 

Letting out a huff he put everything away neatly, taking care to put them in the order of importance and how often he would need it. Carefully zipping it up and placing the bag beside him, he reached a hand out for the remote. 

There was nothing really else for him to do.

* * *

A horrid scratching sound woke him up. 

He jolted up from his place on the bed, laying down on top of the covers, and looked around frantically. The sound was disturbing, like hollow metal being held against a child’s mouth, the screaming hoarse and haunting. 

Sweat beaded his forehead as his hand clasped around his knife, fingers wrapped tightly around it. He swallowed thickly and slowly slid off the mattress- tired limbs jolting with familiar fire as he silently made his way to his door. 

The sound was coming from beyond it. 

He refused to think of how fast his heart was beating, or how sickening the feeling in his throat was. His mind was yelling at him to just open it already, but he hesitated. 

What was beyond that door? 

It suddenly seemed imposing. Like it was no longer just a shitty motel room door- no. It was terrifying. And he didn’t like the weakening feeling. Clenching his jaw, he gripped the knife tighter to his chest and leaned forward to see out the peep-hole. 

Which didn’t even work. He felt stupid as he was met with a yellow colour, and he grit his teeth even further. 

Some part of him though, the part that he tried to run away from, licked its dirty lips and begged that it was someone disgustingly horrible on the other side. 

“Please, please help me, please!”

It was as if everything froze. 

… It was a little girl. 

“There’s a bad person coming and I-” a terrified sob. “I need help! Please, I’m scared!”

He didn’t even think as he slammed his back against the door, the sound making a resounding thud. No way in fucking hell was he going to fall for that shit. He bared his teeth to the darkness of his room. 

“Please! Please they’re coming-”

He bent his head upwards and glared his eyes. Teeth shaking though he ignored them, the salty taste flooded his dry mouth but he didn’t care. Tongue bitten to rags, his hand hovered over the handle of the door. 

What was he really risking at this point? 

“I need help… please help me,” the kid seemed to give up on herself and he felt his heart pang. 

With a sullen sigh, defeated and terrified, he pulled the handle down and prepared his knife against his neck, readying to attack if someone other then the kid walked in. 

But that didn’t seem to be the case. 

A flurry of dress ruffles raced into the room, and he slammed the door shut, his shoulder held against it as there was suddenly an assault of knocks and bangs. 

“Open the fucking door!!”

He didn’t let up though. He kept his body weight against it and his arm wrapped around the frame. The kid’s screaming rang in his ears and he doubled his efforts, a cruel feeling of rage rushed through him as the knocks became louder and the sobbing became wilting. 

“I said,” a rough shake bounced off of his shoulder. “I said open the damn door!” 

“Give it up.”

His eyes widened at the other voice.

“She’s not worth it.”

“Do you even hear yourself?! The bounty for that chick is a fuck ton!”

Silence for a while, then the knocking and banging finally let up. But he didn’t stop his weight from leaning more heavily on the door. 

“I know, but we can’t risk anything right now. We’ll get her sometime later.”

“But-”

“Not now, darling. Not now.”

Footsteps seemed to drift away, loud in his ears and pained in the silence of his room. He blinked. Everything just happened so quickly. Like a quick flash that he could barely catch, an event that was too much for him to even process. 

This night just kept getting better and better, huh? 

He let out a rough breath and beant his forehead against the door. A part of him wanted to slam it repeatedly against it, but a sniffle from behind him had his pulse shortening. 

Right. 

There’s a kid now in his room and he had absolutely no idea what to do. 


	2. Nothing More then A little Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story is just starting to unfold- only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommend playing this song during the chapter; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLGvuo4UEpg

_Where was he?_

_Voices and whispers tainted his mind, coiled like an awful snake around his neck, and he gasped an awful breath. It was cold. He couldn’t feel anything, and he screamed with his lips cracking open in the corners like some sort of cruel imitation of a smile._

_Was his eyes open? He didn’t know, couldn’t feel light on his eyelids or blink in time with his racing heart. He tried to twist his arms, feel something other than bitter cold, and felt a horrid feeling drench him in acid._

_He couldn’t move._

__S__

* * *

Words were dry on her dirty lips, and she clutched her dress tighter. 

Dark brown hair fell around her shoulders, much too long and reaching the floor. The tendrils danced along the dark wood- it’s ends sweeping. She watched with dazed, dead eyes as they trailed over the small scratches made by desperate claws. 

Claws that laid in a bloody mess beside her. 

It was damaging, loud, _terrifying_ . Breath was easy, but so, so _hard_. There was something sick in her lungs, trying to maim it’s way through her throat with a horrid laugh. 

What had she done? 

Tears wanted to come out and weep along her cheek and dribble down her crimson chin; but they wouldn’t come. Wouldn’t appear. Was that her punishment? To feel so hideously nothing? 

* * *

“Are you all alone?”

She didn’t answer him.

“Darling, did you hear me?”

Her hands continued to play with the ears of the bunny, the soft material folding in her delicate fingertips. Small feet kicked out under the bench.

The snow softly fell around them in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“Sweetheart?”

She didn’t look at him.

So he sat beside her.

He was a shadow of a man, gentle and careful with his movements he was silent. Like a creature with heavy wings, he placed his body on the other side of the bench.

“Is everything okay?”

Her hair was darling, lovely, curled at the edges by beautiful deep browns. It looked rich, and the man kept his nails dug into the small grooves of the seat, his eyes darting and searching.

The bunny’s pink button eyes blinked in the light.

“You know, a storm’s coming.”

He tilted his head up towards the moon, his breath coming out foggy.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

Her dress was in ruins, soft ruffles tainted with speckles of something red and rusted. Was a shame- it looked so lovingly made. Her head was still bowed to him.

The night was getting colder, harsher, and the wind started to howl against the bones of the damned. A warning to all who lingered, it was something of poetry.

The man smiled.

“Darling, are you okay?”

“Can you please leave me alone?”

His eyes slid to hers. And he held back a delighted, wrongful gasp as wonderous blues dazed into his.

Her voice was mellow, light, dangerous. How could a child be as such? There was something cold settling in his chest as his hands threatened to betray him.

“Do you wish for me to do so?”

She nodded.

“I can’t do that, sadly.”

“And why not?”

“A little girl all alone on a cold night shouldn’t be left to freeze.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Her shoulders were starting to become stiff, frozen, and some fog left those pretty, pretty lips. Desire of poison feeling coated his tainted tongue and he bit his lip.

“Are you all alone my dear?”

“What if I was?”

He smiled once again.

“Then I would ask why.”

She narrowed, _delicate, wild_ , flurry-bitten eyes at him as she continued to kick those little feet out under her.

“Leave me alone please.”

“Darling, I can’t do that.”

She didn’t answer him again, and this time picked herself up and dusted the wet, light snow off of her loli dress. It was beautiful, just like a star glistening. Her back was to him as she started to walk away.

The little pats of her slightly heeled white shoes echoed in the worsening night.

“Good-bye.”

He watched as her soft-looking skin blended in with the snow speeding. Ache rotted his limbs as his teeth bit into soft flesh, hoping and wishing it was hers.

His hand beant into his coat pocket, picked out his phone, and called the man to let him know.

How divine it would be, to pick apart something so sweet.

Bitten lips smiled into the night.

***

* * *

***

Detective Shirogane sipped on his coffee, eyes tired and hands shaking. 

Spine feeling bruised as he leaned against the cold wall of the room, his attention dragging over every detail with increasing frustration- he swallowed that bitter coffee. It was warm in his throat, humbling even. The cheap liquid was present in the office even at these odd hours and he couldn't feel more grateful if he tried. 

But feeling at the moment was just a little too much energy that he didn't have to give. 

"Find anything, Shiro?"

He cringed. 

"Not yet."

"Then what are you even doing?"

He closed his eyes, momentarily feeling bliss, but agitation tugged at his limbs. He heard the quiet footsteps of Curtis, and he hoped his face didn't betray what he was feeling. 

The other man stopped beside him, not leaning on the wall, but crossing his arms over his chest and humming. Side-eyeing him, Shiro watched as he took in the information on the screen in front of them. 

"No new leads, huh," he murmured. 

Shiro didn't answer him, knowing that he already knew. He raised the cup to his lips once again. 

There was a moment of silence until Curtis let out a sigh. 

Shiro hoped he wouldn't bring it up. 

"It's getting a little late, Shiro-"

"It's fine."

He cringed inwardly at his voice, loud in his own ears and in the empty room. 

Curtis didn't answer him, Shiro didn't expect him too, and left without a word. But before he crossed the doorframe, with Shiro still glaring at the board with guilt in his throat, he did. 

"There's a meeting in an hour. She wants you there."

And with that, his footsteps melted into the air. 

* * *

His eyes were haunting. 

Shiro hated it. 

The room was cold, still, and he knew everyone else felt the same way with their lowered eyes and tapping fingers. He felt pity, and guilt. So much guilt that not even his warm coffee could soothe away. 

His brain hurt, but her voice remained sharp. 

“Another victim was found yesterday.”

A silent sigh fell into the room as the woman turned on her heel and began to tape something to the whiteboard in front of them. It was a dirty thing, and Shiro could see the slight tremble in her shoulders as her nail ran over the cheap tape. 

It wasn’t fair for her, the weight he put there. 

“The body was found mutilated, with no signs of struggle.” Her eyes draped over them all, though her lips were thinned. “A woman in her late teens, she has been identified as Maria Voght.”

A heavy silence as trained eyes roamed over the picture of the woman on the board, her body that of a sleeping doll. Shiro’s gut twisted as his eyes met her fish ones, unblinking even in the photo. 

His hands twitched around his mug, nerves eating at his stripped thoughts. 

“She has been the twenty-first victim.”

* * *

The cigarette burned in his throat, stuck to the roof of his mouth as he took a long drag. 

He watched with dead eyes as the smoke travelled up and away, the dirty colour washing with the night sky. He licked his lips coated in tobacco and took another, possibly slower, inhale. 

It rotted in his lungs as the woman beside him did the same. 

White hair glittered with every small movement she made out of the corner of his eye, gaze too dry and throat too heavy to mention her shaking hands. 

She let out a long breath and tilted her head to the city sky. “Are you doing okay, Shiro?”

He smiled. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But are you?”

“Allura, it’s alright. I’m more worried about you.” He paused to let out a huff. “You saw that body first hand.”

Her eyes lowered a bit as she let out a small sigh. Lips now relaxed and body looking defeated, she rubbed the hand with her cancer stick on her forehead, palm digging into soft skin. 

“It’s all part of the job, Shiro.”

He let out a hum. “Sure, but you can’t be strong all the time.”

“I… I know.” Silence, then she let out a slight laugh. “You dirty dog. I was asking about you.”

A smile her way as the filter began to burn against his lips, “Don’t worry, alright?”

“You know I always will.”

He stubbed out the butt on the sole of his boot and placed it in his pocket, offering the same to Allura. She handed him hers. 

“We’re meeting the family tomorrow, right?”

She let out a hum as they started to walk towards their respected cars. 

* * *

_Heart beating in his throat, knuckles white with effort, his lungs poisoned._

_He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t react fast enough._

_The gunshot felt like a vision of hurt running through him all too fast, the feeling of liquid fire rolling inside his organs like some cruel parasite._

_A startled gasp as his trembling hands covered over the rapidly bleeding wound, eyes wide and lips bitten in effort to keep his scream contained._

_The sound of her sobbing had his heart tying in a knot and his brain on mute._

_With one hand tight in a ball and shoulders hunched, he raised his bloody, red, crimson hand towards the screaming (blurry) figure of a girl far too young to see a man bleed to death._

He woke up in a sweat, like so many other nights, and panted in the silence of his room. Eyes horrifyingly wide, he watched his reflection in the window in front of him. He looked deranged, mangled, _broken_. 

Hands twisted in his sheets, he refused to think about the tears burning his eyelids. 

* * *

The car was silent, save from the low hum of the tires on old pavement. 

Allura’s bright pink nails tapped away on the steering wheel, her shoulders and back proper and straight. Hair in a neat bun, eyes gleaming the usual seriousness and determination. Thought the hint of decay was present behind bright blues. 

Shiro knew about that rot but decided against talking about it.

Instead, he turned his eyes to the folder she had placed in his lap when she picked him up. It was brown, dull, and really only had a few papers inside of it. It felt rough in his scarred hands and he twisted his brain to find the right method of looking at it. 

That didn’t matter though, not like it once did, and he opened it unceremoniously. 

And felt bile rise in the back of his throat. 

_It’s only a photo, it’s only a photo, it’s only a photo, please fuck- it’s only a photo._

He swallowed. 

And closed the folder after some time of dim eyes roaming over the pictures and information typed out. 

He felt bad, horrible really, as he set the folder on the dashboard. He didn’t want to be holding the folder anymore, the sight of exposed bones and tissue and-

“Shiro?”

He swallowed again. 

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

He sent her a soft smile, bitter though real. “Allura, don’t worry about me, okay?”

Narrowed eyes were all he got but he didn’t budge. 

“How long until we get there, anyway?”

She stared at him from the corner of her vision for a while until she let out a tough sigh, her lips pouting ever so slightly. 

“Oh how I hate how you tell me nothing,” she says. 

Her accent was ever so prominent, and he couldn’t rinse the smile off of his face even if he tried. Just like they were kids, she was still a child at heart. A child with no innocence, but one nonetheless. 

He hated to burden her any further. 

“So?”

She answered by pulling into a shallow driveway, the bump over the sidewalk loud and worrisome against the bumper of her car. Allura muttered a curse under her breath as Shiro winced. It did _not_ sound good.

***

* * *

***

The porch light flickered as the morning sun peeked over the edge of a suburban town, with small and perfect houses dotting the streets filled with nervous air. A day of light- now drenched in sticky tar and fear. 

And it was all his fault. 

Sickening rot filled his stomach as he heard the sirens in the distance, loud and aching in his fragile ears. How he wished to cover them, block out the sound. 

But that would seem suspicious to the officer in front of him. 

“Your name, sir.”

He blinked. 

“Ah, right. My bad. Hunk Garrett,” he said, nerves drowning him. 

The officer nodded and wrote it in his notebook, quick and practiced with a harsh frown on his face. “Age and profession?”

“Just turned twenty-four, and uh, just opened up shop,” he gestured somewhere behind him, “a bakery. We sell cakes and pastries.”

Another nod and more notes. 

Hunk could feel sweat pool in his shirt. 

He hoped the other man didn’t notice. 

“And what time did you find the body?”

A gulp. “Around an hour ago.”

A side glance. “Are you sure?”

He nodded while he focused on deep breaths. _Inhale,_ a blood stain marked with a trail to the back gate. _Exhale,_ the stench of decay from the garage. _Inhale,_ claw marks on the doorframe just behind the officer’s shoulder. _Exhale,_ the shame that guilted the back of his throat. 

“Sorry, I just-”

“I understand, Mr. Garrett, thank-you.” The officer kept looking at him, pale green eyes knowing and probing. Hunk hated himself so much further, the raw sweat beading his brow probably not helping his case. 

“We’ll get back to you in about three hours.” Was all he said as he turned to walk away. 

And as he did, Hunk let out a soft, dry sigh. He sure as fuck hoped there was a plan in all this, cause right now- he wanted to shit his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if ya'll like this format. Trying something new.


	3. Pray on your Dirty Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unfinished.

The motel really wasn’t that big. 

Which was a problem, since it was so fucking queit in this damn room. He slumped further in the hard chair, metal back digging into his tired spine, and chewed on his lower lip. Something sick crawled around his shoulders as the silence dragged on. No words tipped his tongue as he watched the girl stare at the floor with small tears falling on her clasped hands. 

He felt awkward as hell and fought with himself as stolen air made his lungs spasm. They’ve been sitting here for the past two hours and god dammit he needed sleep. 

“Who are you?”

Unprepared for his loud voice in the dull room, he flinched when she did the same. 

Clenching his jaw for the soft bone to bend, he tried to soften his tone. He was never good at that sort of thing. 

“Do you need to call someone?”

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked at the soft voice. 

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” She started to gently sob and her shoulders jumped up and down. Painful hiccups started to scratch at the air and the sound was that of horrid nails. Hair in a mess covered in snot and dirt as her shaking hands dug into the scalp. 

He swallowed. 

He didn’t mean to make her cry. 

“Hey- uh, hey it’s okay.”

He was so shit at this. 

She started to rock herself sideways slightly as she hoarsely mimed screaming at the floor, that fucked up, old ass, floor and seemed to yell her pain to the world below them. 

He felt empty, useless, as she dragged dirty hands down her face and to her middle, whole body trembling and whimpering. 

There was suddenly a flood of blood that leaked into his mouth, and he swallowed it with a slight grimince. He had bitten his tongue. He traced over the smooth and sharp edges with tough disdain as the weeping started to soften. 

“I didn’t mean to, I promise. I’m sorry,” she says, soft and broken. 

Staring at her for a moment, heart pinched as her young face caved in over and over again while trying to scrub away the tears streaking down her face, he shook his head with an awkward throat-clearing. 

He really wasn’t good at this. 

“We’ll get to that later, it’s fine,” he tries. “Can you tell me your name?”

She silent for a few minutes until, “I can’t tell you.”

He let out a rough breath and itched at his neck with his eyes trying to tell her how difficult of a damn position she put him in. 

“Look, everything’s going to be okay, alright?” He hated telling lies. “All I need is a name to tell the cops, that’s all-”

“You can’t go to them!”

Her voice was loud and terrified. Pitched with that familiar sound that had his mind rotting.

“Why not.”

“They’ll hurt me.”

________

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with all the eyes on him. 

They were all prying, pitying,  _ disgusting _ . He swallowed down all the shouts and curses he wanted to roll off of his split tongue, neatly trimmed nails digging into his dirty jeans with restlessness. It's some sort of sick joke, this nervousness. 

A shuffling beside him had his attention sliding to the woman beside him, who was clutching her purse tight against her middle and side-eying him, as if he was some sort of nasty animal. 

But she didn’t matter, not really. 

The officer leaning against the wall watched them all with a hawk’s attention, stone eyes trailing over them as he flicked his lighter on and off. It was slow, dizzying, and he tried to calm down the ice in his heart with his attention trying in vain to latch onto it. 

The flame was kinda pretty. 

He needed to keep his hyper, worried mind at a stand still. But it was hard. He didn’t have time to take his meds, and all he wanted to do was curl into a pitiful ball on this cold clay floor. 

“Lance Espinosa, please proceed to the front office.”

Bitter feeling ate at him as his stiff limbs went to get up, barely wincing even though he wanted too as the officer clasped a heavy hand around his arm and dragged him to the large door taking up the whole damn place. 

He barely got a chance to take in the cigarette breath of the guy before he was shoved into the cold ass room. 

“Please take a seat.”

His steps were loud on the cheap looking floor. He could see the marks of years of use, and a cold half-smile cracked his dry lips.

No matter how hard this place tried to be something, there was no hiding how nasty this shit really was. 

The chair was hard against his back, the leather just as worn as everything else in the room. He played with a stray string from the sewing on his sleeve, twirling the strand over and over again until he heard a delicate throat clearing in front of him. 

“Hello, Mr. Espinosa. I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

He did. 

“And you know what you did wrong, correct?”

Sliding his eyes up he watched the woman in front of him stare with something strange in those hooded eyes. Her face was so… solid. It had Lance uncomfortable as he tried for his usual smile, albeit sheepish. 

“Yeah. I know what I did.”

The curtains the colour of stained red shifted in the light breeze behind her.

“You are aware this school doesn’t approve of violence.” She still hadn’t moved. “This is very unlike you.”

“I didn’t really have a choice, Ma’am.”

“Oh?”

He let out a long sigh, slumped in his seat, and crossed a leg over his knee. “I swear I didn’t mean for it to go that far.

“But what else was I supposed to do?”

It was really starting to freak him out how un-moving the woman was, only her eyelids blinked and even that was strangely weird. Lance had never even met the lady, but she was one hundred percent what he was expecting from the rumors. 

Which made a certain type of fear well up. 

“You are aware, Mr. Espinosa, that you  _ did _ have a choice. And you chose to harm another student.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when she shook her head with the slightest of movement. White hair stiff and hollow in the dull light behind her, she seemed so much larger than he was. It made him feel small. 

She still didn’t break eye-contact. 

“Whatever you’re going to say, I assure it will be no use.” 

He felt a certain type of ache crawl through him as true panic began to sink in. He was tripping over his words in a blind sort of haze, the feeling of something pulling on his spine made his heart clench in fear. He had to try, he had to, he didn’t have a choice-

“Ma’am, I promise it will never happen again, I-”

“That doesn’t matter, Mr. Espinosa,” she tells him. “You understand I do not tolerate violence at this school.” 

Something cold settled in his gut. 

“I’ll be suspending you from this school until your expulsion papers are in order.”

_________________________________

He was alone again. 

He really didn’t mind it, not really. Mostly. There was some sort of comfort in being alone with only yourself for company, but now, as it often was, wasn’t that time. Which was a damn shame.

His thoughts ran with hatred through his driven, empty-crowded mind and he husked a worthless laugh at the dirty stained floor. Only this time his vision blurred with tears, tears he refused to let out. 

He could hear them, behind that door. Hear them shout and scream and he sniffled a sob by biting his bruised lips. What a pathetic loser, to be crying at a damn school. At least there wasn’t anybody near by, a stupid relief that hade his gut pinching. 

He still wouldn’t let himself cry. 

Pride sure was a bitch. 

________________________________


End file.
